


Shut Up and Dance

by amiraculousladybug



Series: On the Banks of the Seine [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anthropomorphic, F/M, Performing Arts, Swing Dancing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-05-26 04:16:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6223507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amiraculousladybug/pseuds/amiraculousladybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucie Bonheur is just an ordinary theater major studying in Paris. Then she visits the Kwami Dance Club, and her world gets turned upside down.<br/>(A prequel of sorts to Shall We Dance?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lady Luck

**Author's Note:**

> This is the swing dance AU origin story of Ladybug and Chat Noir, Tikki and Plagg, Papillon, and the fame of Kwami Dance Club. Tikki and Plagg have human names for this, so they'll be referred to by those names for the vast majority of this fic.  
> My personal playlist for this chapter:  
> Sing, Sing, Sing -- BBC Big Band Orchestra  
> Bad Boy Good Man -- Tape Five  
> Shut Up and Dance -- WALK THE MOON  
> Haven't Met You Yet -- Michael Buble

The sign outside Kwami Dance Club flashed enticingly in bright neon colors against Lucie's peripheral vision as she walked back to her apartment for the night. Despite her determination to get back before nine, she found herself slowing to get a better look at the club. Up until now, she had only passed it during the day, when the lights were off and there were no signs of life from inside, but it was vibrant and lively tonight. Faint strains of music were audible even though the doors and windows were shut tight against the November chill blowing in off the Seine. The fast, pulsing beat made Lucie want to start dancing right there in the street. Before she knew what she was doing, she was already walking towards the small building.

She stopped herself halfway across the street. What was getting into her? It was late; she had to get back to her apartment. She still had to grab dinner after getting out of her evening class. The dance club could wait for another night, a night when she didn't have a script to memorize and a paper on interpreting characterization to write. School had to come first.

But the flashing lights and bright music were so tempting …

Lucie shook her head and continued on her way.

~

“Not that one … no, not that one, either …”

Lucie frowned at her closet. Why did picking out an outfit have to be so hard? She finally had an open night in her schedule, and now here she was, standing in front of her array of clothing indecisively.

It might have been easier had she known what people typically wore to a dance club. As things stood, she was clueless in that department. The closest she'd ever come to visiting a dance club had been taking a dance-based aerobics class in high school. She got the feeling that skintight exercise clothes were not the norm at a dance club. Finally, fed up with her own indecisiveness, she closed her eyes and shoved her hand into her closet, taking out the first hanger her fingers fell on. Twenty minutes later she left her apartment in an open-backed red blouse tucked into her favorite black-and-red checked skirt.

The dance club was already hopping with business by the time Lucie arrived and pulled the front door open. It was more than a little bit of a surprise to see that the visitors of the club were dancing swing instead of one of the more popular, modern single-person dance styles. She wondered if maybe this had been a bad idea. She didn't know the first thing about swing dancing.

Before she could turn tail and leave, however, she was intercepted by a man of short stature, perhaps in his mid-forties, who looked her over with a curious gleam in his almond-shaped eyes. “Welcome to Kwami Dance Club,” he greeted her, offering his hand for her to shake. “I am Fu, the owner and dance instructor for the club.”

 _Fu?_ What sort of a name was Fu? She accepted the offered handshake. “Lucie Bonheur,” she replied. “It's nice to meet you.”

“This is your first time here, isn't it, Miss Lucie?”

Lucie nodded. “I'm new to Paris.”

“A college student, then, I imagine,” Fu remarked, shuffling over to a strange little box that sat to one side of the door.

She nodded again. “Theater major. I'm a freshman.”

“Eighteen?”

“Yes, sir.”

Fu opened the box and began moving the contents around as if in search of something. “How exciting. Ah, here it is.” He closed the box again. Lucie tried to peek over his shoulder to see what he was holding, but he turned back around to face her before she caught a glimpse. She dropped her gaze to his hands and saw a red and black sequined domino mask.

“Here at Kwami Dance Club, we keep our visitors anonymous,” Fu explained as he offered the mask to Lucie. “Just a little privacy measure. You can also go by an alias while you're here.”

“An alias?” Lucie echoed, taking the mask and putting it on. It fit as snugly as if it had been made especially for her.

“An alter ego, so to speak,” Fu clarified. “For example, that fellow over there in the purple suit goes by Papillon, and the young woman over yonder is Volpina.” He pointed to the club visitors in question, both of whom were masked. When Lucie looked around, she saw that everyone was in fact masked.

“Let's try to figure something out for you,” Fu suggested. He looked her over, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Petite, red hair, red clothes … You said your last name was Bonheur?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hmm.” After a moment of silent musing, Fu snapped his fingers. “I've got it. How about Ladybug?”

 _Ladybug? As in the beetle?_ It was better than something like Papillon, she supposed. And it wasn't like she was going to be coming back. This was just a one-time thing. “Why not?” she agreed.

Fu smiled, obviously pleased. “I thought you might like it. Now let's see, you'll need a partner … oh, perfect.” His eyes had landed on someone out on the dance floor. “It looks like Chat Noir is free now. He'll take good care of you. Follow me.”

Before she could ask who Chat Noir was, Fu was already heading across the room. Lucie was given no choice but to follow and try not to be pulled in another direction by moving dancers.

Fu came to a stop beside a black-haired young man with a black domino mask. He wasn't very tall, but he had an elegant grace to him that put Lucie in mind of a cat. No wonder his alias was Chat Noir. “You wouldn't happen to be looking for a new partner, would you?” Fu asked him.

Chat Noir smirked in reply. “I would. You wouldn't happen to have one for me, would you?” His eyes, bright green like summertime grass, fell on Lucie with idle curiosity.

“Chat Noir, this is Ladybug,” Fu explained. “She's new and I was hoping you might show her the ropes.”

Chat Noir's smirk widened. “It would be my pleasure.” He took Lucie's hand in his and kissed it. “Shall we, little lady?”

Despite herself, Lucie found she was smiling back. “We shall,” she consented, and let him lead her out to the middle of the dance floor.

“Some people like to teach slowly,” Chat Noir said when they were facing one another and he had a hold of both her hands. “I, however, believe in learning on the fly.” With that, he started to dance.

Lucie stumbled a little before managing to catch her footing, and she looked down at his feet to see what he was doing. It didn't look terribly complicated, but she still fumbled her way through figuring out the steps. She heard Chat chuckle softly as she tried to catch on.

“Back, forward, step, step,” he instructed. “Right, left, right, left. It's that simple.”

“Back, forward …” Lucie repeated, trying to follow with her feet.

“Step, step,” Chat finished for her. “You've got it; you just have to keep up.”

“Easy for you to say,” she retorted.

He laughed.

~

“Back so soon?” Chat Noir teased the next night when Lucie approached him for a dance. He raised one eyebrow at her playfully.

Lucie gave him an exasperated but not unaffectionate smile. “Says the one who according to Fu has come every night for almost a year,” she teased back. She took his hand. “Come on, I want you to finish teaching me the piano roll.”

He rolled his eyes at her with a grin. “As you wish, little lady.” He allowed her to tug him away from the wall and out to the middle of the dance floor again. “Although it's really not that hard to learn. You could have just about anyone here teach it to you.”

“But I want _you_ ,” Lucie insisted. She moved into the standard open position he had taught her last night. “Are you gonna teach me or not?”

Chat Noir heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Patience, little lady, patience.” He pulled her in close and then fell into the familiar rock step. “How much of the piano roll do you remember?”

“Nothing,” she answered frankly.

He rolled his eyes again. “All right, then. Review time. Sweetheart”—he spun her into the sweetheart position, close by his side—“switch sides”—she was shifted to his other side—“and then you let go with your right hand and spin towards your left shoulder. I'll catch you and dip you.”

“So let go …” She dropped his hand.

“Other hand,” Chat corrected.

Lucie made a face at him and switched to the other hand. “And now I spin?”

“To your left,” he confirmed.

She spun and let herself fall into the dip, hoping and trusting that he would catch her. Sure enough, even though it took a split, sickening second longer than she would have liked, Chat caught her in his arms and pulled her back up. “That's it?”

“That's it,” Chat answered. He flashed her a reassuring grin. “You learn fast, for a beginner. Do you want to try an aerial?”

“An aerial?” Lucie repeated.

“Unless you'd rather review the piano roll,” he amended.

She shook her head. “I think I've got it now. What's an aerial?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Chat replied. “You're off the ground and I flip you around.”

Lucie did her best not to blanch and only partially succeeded. “And what happens if you drop me?”

“I won't,” he promised.

Lucie bit her lip and thought about it. How much was she willing to trust him?

“You'll be off the ground for all of two seconds,” Chat added.

That clinched it for Lucie. “Okay.” She moved back to the open position. “What's this aerial called?”

“Well, there are a lot of aerials,” Chat drawled in response, taking her hands, “but we'll start with cherry bomb. It's one of the easiest.”

“And how do you do cherry bomb?”

Chat fell into the rock step. “It starts exactly like armbreaker,” he explained. He led her into Cupid's bow and then twisted to coax her into the spin for armbreaker, which he had taught her last night. “Except once you get to the position for the dip, you're going to brace your hip on mine and jump.”

Lucie paused when she had twisted into armbreaker. “Which way am I jumping?”

“Backwards,” came the reply. “You're going to jump like you're jumping backwards onto a couch. I'll catch you.”

She clenched her jaw and jumped as he had instructed. Chat's hand caught her almost immediately, swinging her down low in a dip and then back up to let her land on her own two feet. Then he twisted her back out of armbreaker and into the open position.

“There,” Chat said, a red flush draining from his face, “that wasn't so bad, was it?”

She gestured towards his face. “I should be asking you that, I think.”

He waved it off. “You try holding someone off the ground. Even if you've been doing it for a while like I have, it still takes a bit of effort.” He resumed dancing and started Cupid's bow again. “Let's try that again to make sure you've got it.”

It was easier and somewhat less terrifying now that she knew what to expect. As soon as she felt his hip under hers to support her, she jumped and let him catch her. He swung her lower and faster this time, and his face was alight with a grin when he pulled her back up. “Not bad,” he approved. “Not bad at all, little lady.”

Lucie grinned back. “I learned from the best.”

Chat raised an eyebrow at her, but he was still smiling. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” he informed her. “You want to try double cherry bomb?”

“What's that?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.” Chat led her back into the position for armbreaker. “You jump, I swing you this way, and then I swing you the other way. And _then_ I put you down.”

She gave him an amused glance. “Do you happen to like this cherry bomb move of yours?”

He shrugged in response. “It's one of the best ones to start with if you're teaching someone aerials,” he explained dismissively. “Now jump. I'll catch you. Cat's honor.”

“I'm not sure I trust an oath made on the honor of a cat,” she teased, but she jumped anyway. Chat Noir, true to his word as he always seemed to be, caught her and swung her with ease. Despite the small lurch in her stomach when she was swung to the other side without a chance to steady herself, Lucie had to admit she enjoyed the aerial.

“And that's it,” Chat said when he'd set her back down, looking pleased with himself. “Still don't trust cat's honor?”

Lucie wrinkled her nose at him. “I'll consider it.”

His familiar smirk was back on his face. “Glad to hear it. Let's try rolling pin next.”

Lucie wasn't sure if she ought to be excited or nervous at the look of mischief in his eyes. “What's rolling pin?”

“Another aerial,” he answered vaguely. Dammit, he was toying with her. He was so like a real cat that it made her want to laugh and scream in frustration at the same time.

“I meant what do you _do_ for rolling pin?” she specified, enunciating each word carefully.

“It's easy,” Chat assured her. He led her into the sweetheart position, then spun her out to the side. “You're going to spin in to your right and grab onto my arm with your free hand. Without letting go with the other hand,” he added as she started to spin and dropped his hand.

Lucie gave him a playful frown but did as he instructed.

“Good,” Chat approved once she had spun in tight against him. “Now jump sideways, so that you're parallel with the floor.” She did so, and he caught her beneath her knee.

“You're very trusting,” he observed with a grin. Before she could say anything to that, he continued, “Now this is the part that most girls don't like. You're going to let go with your left hand.”

“I'm _what?_ ”

“Going to let go,” he repeated patiently. “I'm going to switch my hand to your other knee, and you're going to let go. And then you let gravity do the rest.”

“I'm not liking the sound of this,” she informed him.

He blinked at her. “All right, then,” he agreed, and set her back on her feet without protest. “We won't do that one if you're not comfortable with it. So what kinds of aerials _would_ you be comfortable with?”

“Ones where I'm not going to risk plummeting to my death,” Lucie answered promptly.

Chat Noir burst out laughing. “Okay, little lady. We'll leave it at the cherry bomb for tonight.”

~

“Lucie!”

Lucie was snapped out of her thoughts abruptly by the director, and she flushed in embarrassment as she realized that he had probably been trying to catch her attention for at least a minute or two. “I'm sorry,” she apologized. “What were you saying?”

The director sighed. “I _said_ , stop daydreaming and pay attention to what's going on onstage. You missed your cue three times.” He gestured up to the stage, where her fellow theater majors were waiting expectantly. A couple were tapping their feet in impatience.

Lucie leapt to her feet and seized her script. “I'm sorry! I don't know what's come over me today!” She scurried onstage and flipped to where she thought they might be in the script. They had barely started the scene when the door of the auditorium swung open.

“What now?” the director grumbled under his breath. He went to meet the young man who had strode in through the open auditorium door. “Noir. I told you I was busy this afternoon.”

“Sorry,” the student apologized, and his voice was so familiar that Lucie's eyes snapped up from her script to look at him almost without thinking. “Fontaine over in the dance department wanted me to bring this to you.” He handed a bundle of papers to the director and glanced up at the stage. He did a double take when he caught Lucie staring.

Black hair. Green eyes like summertime grass. A playful smirk and the elegance of an alley cat.

“Well, I'm not playing gofer for you and Fontaine, so I'll be leaving now,” he said to the director, and then, before Lucie could jump offstage to stop him, he slunk back out the door.

 


	2. Mistaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucie hunts down the mysterious "Noir" who interrupted her stage practice, and two things become very clear.  
> One, "Noir" is definitely Chat Noir.  
> Two, he knows she knows, and he's going to have as much fun with this fact as he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd attach the usual disclaimer about learning a hybrid form of swing dance, but there's not much actual dancing in this chapter, so...different disclaimer this time because I didn't catch this last time. I use the American terms to refer to different years in college, but that is only because I have no earthly clue what they're called in France and haven't seen the info anywhere. If anyone knows and could enlighten me, I will gladly fix it.  
> My personal playlist for this chapter:  
> Haven't Met You Yet - Michael Bublé  
> You Know You Wrong - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy  
> King of Swing - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy  
> Little Bitty Pretty One - Huey Lewis and the News

“Noir?” the director echoed when Lucie asked him about the mysterious student who had interrupted their practice. He made a face like something rancid had been stuck under his nose. “What on earth do you want to know about _him_ for?”

“It's a long story,” Lucie answered, trying to sound dismissive. On the inside, she was practically vibrating with impatience. She needed to find him. She had to know if her guess was right or not. Otherwise she was going to go crazy wondering. “Please?”

The director sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Lucie wondered if he was getting a headache, and if the student he called “Noir” was the cause of it. “Destin Noir is a senior performing arts student. He used to be a theater concentration—that lasted for all of a semester. Now he's going for a dance concentration. And of all the vexing, arrogant, pretentious students I've ever met in that department, he's the worst. He's one of the most talented students we've ever had, and he knows it, and he flaunts it. Five minutes around him and you'd see what I mean. You'd want to punch him. You don't want to meet him, trust me.”

Lucie bit her lip against the protests she wanted to voice. He hadn't seemed that way at the dance club. Yes, he was talented, and yes, he could be a little cocky, but it hadn't been nearly so bad as to make her want to hit him. But then, she supposed, she might be mistaken, and this Noir might have nothing to do with Kwami Dance Club or the Chat Noir she'd met there.

But those eyes and that damned _smirk_ …

“Thank you,” she said. “I'll take that into consideration.”

~

Most of the seniors who were sitting in the hall outside the dance auditorium waiting for their turns gave Lucie odd or dirty looks as she passed. She shrank under their eyes. It was painfully obvious that they didn't think she was meant to be there, and what made it worse was that they were right. She had no business snooping around like this. She wondered what Fu would have said. He was so insistent about the aliases at the dance club that she wasn't sure what he would say about her trying to figure out Chat Noir's identity. Probably he would have been disappointed if he knew. But she tried not to think about that. It was Chat Noir who had come barging in on her civilian life first, she reasoned to herself, so if he was found out he only had himself to blame.

As soon as she stepped inside the auditorium, she felt her jaw drop.

It was _definitely_ him.

A wildly fast-paced jazz tune was playing over the auditorium speakers. Onstage was the student who had walked in on her class' acting practice. And he was dancing with unbelievable, split-second precision that told her there was not a single day that went by without him practicing. It wasn't the dull, bored precision of someone who had practiced to the point of tiring of the choreography, though. He was grinning in that devilish way that Lucie recognized from her nights at Kwami Dance Club, and every movement was full of energy and exuberance. She felt her way to the nearest auditorium seat without taking her eyes off him, and sat down to watch him finish.

It didn't take long for him to notice her. Lucie wondered how he could see much of anything past the stage when all the stage lights were so blindingly bright. But his eyes fell on her in the middle of a tight spin, and she saw his eyebrows snap up in surprise. The smirk slipped for one brief instant. He didn't lose any of his precision, though, and he finished the rest of his dance as easily as he'd begun.

The professor who was watching from the front row gave him a small smattering of applause. “You're golden, Noir. Don't know why I bothered having you come for rehearsals today. Although … well, something was off about those faces you were making towards the end there. But you don't usually do that, so I'm not too worried. Just something to keep in mind for our next practice.”

“Will do,” he promised, but he wasn't looking at the professor. He was staring straight at Lucie. “Am I done here?”

“I see no reason to make you stay.” The professor jerked his thumb towards the doors. “Get out of here and enjoy the sunshine. And send Lemoine in on your way out, will you?”

Noir had already hopped off the stage and was on his way to the exit on Lucie's side of the auditorium. “Sure thing, professor.” When he reached Lucie, he gave the smallest of hand signals for her to follow him, and continued on his way out of the room. Lucie scrambled to her feet and followed him out.

He didn't say anything at first, just kept walking down the hall until he stopped in front of one of the girls waiting there to murmur a few brief words to her. The girl jumped to her feet and headed into the auditorium. Then he looked back to see if Lucie was still following, and left the theater. Once they were out on the green in front of the theater, he stopped and swiveled to face her. “All right, little lady, may I ask why you're following me?” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “You're a freshman, aren't you? A little young to be chasing after a senior, don't you think?”

Lucie wondered if he was trying to play dumb. Didn't he recognize her the way she'd recognized him? She'd thought so, when she'd seen his reaction in the auditorium. Why was he trying to act like he didn't know her? “I'm not chasing after you,” she answered. “Not like that, anyway. You're Chat Noir, right? From Kwami Dance Club?”

If her guess was right, he showed no signs of it. He just raised an eyebrow at her dubiously. “Do I look like a cat to you?” he replied.

“That's not—come on, you _have_ to recognize me. The girl you've been teaching? Ladybug? It's me.”

He still didn't show any signs of recognizing her, and Lucie began to wonder if somehow, unbelievably, she had been mistaken. She had been so _sure_. How could it not be him? Then she caught the tiniest flicker of amusement in his eyes, and she realized he was toying with her. Oh, he knew who she was, all right, and he was messing with her to see how long it would take her to get him to admit it.

“Doesn't ring a bell,” he said. “What kind of a name is Ladybug, anyway? Your parents must have been pretty cruel if they named you after a beetle.”

“That's not—you know as well as I do that that's an alias!” The director had been right. She _did_ want to punch him. “Come on, I know you know me. You called me little lady a minute ago.”

He shrugged. “I call any girl shorter than me 'little lady.' Doesn't make you any more special than any other short girl on campus.” Lucie gaped at him incredulously, fumbling for a retort, and he turned to leave. “See you around, little ladybug. Good luck with that one-act play of yours.”

“Wait a—come back here! I wasn't finished—”

“My professor told me to go enjoy the sun,” he said, “and that's exactly what I plan to do. Besides, don't you have a practice of your own to go to? If I remember freshman drama class correctly, there should be a play rehearsal going on right about now.”

Lucie looked down at her watch, and cursed. He was right. She was going to be late. As much as she wanted to go after him and drag him back over here until he admitted he was Chat Noir, she couldn't.

She was going to have to hunt down the elusive cat some other time.

~

Things were tense the next time Lucie stepped into Kwami Dance Club. She could sense it as soon as she stepped through the door. She slipped on her mask and scooted over to where Chat Noir stood beside Fu, who was addressing the tall, imposing man who went by the alias Papillon. A young woman who was probably very beautiful under her turquoise mask was standing next to Papillon, her arm laced through his. Lucie recognized her as another regular, but couldn't remember her alias.

“It wouldn't be that hard to expand,” Papillon was saying to Fu when Lucie came up to Chat Noir. “Within two or three years, you might even be able to open other locations around Paris.”

“You know how I feel about your image for the dance club,” Fu replied with a harsh look in his eyes. “I cannot consent to such a deal when I know what it means for Kwami Dance Club.”

“Papillon, maybe we should just leave it be,” the woman said to him softly. “If Fu doesn't want to sell the property …”

“What's going on?” Lucie whispered to Chat Noir.

He jerked a little in surprise and looked down at her. He must not have noticed her come up. “Papillon's been hounding Fu to sell Kwami Dance Club for weeks now. He wants to do his own thing with the property.” His nose wrinkled ever so slightly in disgust. “Some big corporate plan, from what I've been able to gather. He's got a lot of cash and wants to turn the place into another money-maker.”

Lucie frowned. “What's wrong with the way it is right now?”

Chat shrugged. “Heck if I know. I think he just wants more money to spend.”

“Fine,” Papillon said loudly, interrupting Lucie and Chat Noir's conversation. Something must have happened while they were talking. “If you're going to continue being this foolish, Fu, then I'll just take my business elsewhere. Let's see how long you manage to keep this place aboveground when your regulars have somewhere better to go.”

“Papillon,” the woman next to him hissed in warning. Her grip on his arm visibly tightened.

“I suppose we'll just have to see, then, won't we?” Fu replied. “Perhaps you'll find that the regulars here are more than happy with the way things are.”

Papillon scowled at that, but “we'll see” was all he said. He straightened his suit and stomped out the door, with the woman hot on his heels.

Fu turned to Chat Noir and to Lucie. “I'm sorry you two had to see that. You had a question for me, Chat Noir?”

“Never mind my question,” Chat Noir said. “You've got enough on your plate. The swing competition's not nearly as important as all that.”

“You're wise for your years,” Fu commented. “Sometimes it's hard to believe you and Papillon are around the same age.” A small frown appeared on his face. “At least, when Papillon gets into one of these moods, that is.”

“The swing competition?” Lucie repeated.

“A little one,” Chat answered. “It just started a couple of years ago. It's not until June, so there's no hurry for him to answer my question anytime soon.”

“Let me guess,” Fu said. “You want to enter again.”

“If you don't mind having someone represent the club,” Chat Noir replied. “The prize money might do you good if Papillon goes through on his threat.” He rubbed his fingers together, as if to suggest the prize was a hefty one. “Besides, I've got to start making a name for myself. Won't be too long before I have to fend for myself in the grand old world. Might as well get a head start now.”

“You would need a partner,” Fu pointed out. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“Funny you should ask.” Chat Noir wrapped an arm around Lucie's shoulders. “I think the little lady here would be perfect for the job. She's new, but she learns fast. She'd be ready to take on the best by summertime, no problem.”

“Is she interested in participating, though?” Fu asked.

Lucie looked up at Chat Noir. If he was who she thought he was, he could easily have his pick of partners. He had enough talent to dance with whomever he wanted. And if he thought she was good enough, if he thought she had enough skill to be his partner in a dance competition, maybe even to help him win the competition …

Chat Noir grinned down at her, and shot her a playful wink. Lucie hadn't known him long, but somehow she knew that was his way of saying he had complete faith in her. It was the only encouragement she needed.

“I am,” she said.

~

Things went by in a bit of a blur after that. Chat Noir had been instructed to teach her as much as he could before June, and he took the instruction seriously. Lucie thought to herself that at the rate he was going, she would learn everything by the end of December. Already he had taught her at least seven new moves, and it had only been half an hour since she had agreed to compete.

“All right, I know you have a supernatural energy supply that allows you to dance all night without getting tired,” she said finally, “but I don't. Can we take a break for just five minutes? I need a drink.” As much as she liked swing dancing, going for a full half hour without so much as a minute's rest was exhausting. She was fairly sure that her bangs were getting pasted to her forehead by sweat.

Chat, vexingly, looked just as energetic as he had before they'd started dancing, but he nodded his consent. “I forgot you still haven't built up your stamina much.” He led her over to the sidelines, where they could watch the other dancers, and helped her into a chair. “I'll go grab that drink you wanted. Water?”

“Please.” She didn't think any of the alcoholic drinks would be a good idea when she was so thirsty.

“Be right back, then.” He was gone as soon as he said it.

Lucie swung her feet back and forth beneath her chair and waited for him to return. She wasn't sure what to think of him anymore—he'd been so irritating at school the other day, toying with her like that, but now here he was, offering to enter a dance competition with her, teaching her, and even getting her a drink. More and more, she thought his alias suited him. He had all the caprice and mischief of a cat, and the self-confident air to match. It would be interesting to compete with him. Would he still be as patient with her then as he was now? Or would the arrogance the director had told her about take over?

A cup of water in front of her face shook her from her thoughts. Chat Noir had returned. “Here you are, little lady,” he said with a grin. “One cup of water.”

Lucie took the cup and flashed him a grateful smile in reply. “Thank you, Destin,” she said without thinking. Then she realized what had just come out of her mouth, and she cringed. Stupid! She still hadn't gotten him to admit who he was!

Chat Noir stared at her for a minute, his eyebrows raised and his mouth hanging open slightly in surprise. Then he seemed to collect his wits and smirked. “Destin? Who's that? Are you already tired enough you're going delirious?”

Lucie flushed and took a long sip of her water. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now he would have two places he could mess with her. “Someone from school. It's not important.”

“A boyfriend?” Chat asked. Lucie nearly choked on her water.

“No!” she exclaimed. “I hardly know y—him! And he's a senior anyway. That would be a horrible idea.”

“The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” Chat said, “but I'll take your word for it. But he must be pretty handsome, this Destin, if you're mistaking me for him.” He waggled his eyebrows at her teasingly.

“I've seen better,” Lucie replied airily. Two could play at this game.

“Then you must have very discriminating taste.” He leaned back against the wall next to her. “It's funny, though. I was just accosted the other day by a freshman who looked very much like you. At least, the way I imagine you looking under the mask.”

If he got any more blatant about their encounter at school without admitting that he was Destin Noir, Lucie thought, she really was going to punch him. “Were you, now?”

“A funny coincidence, isn't it? She mistook me for someone else, too. Seemed very frustrated about the whole thing when I told her she was wrong.” Chat smirked at her. “I imagine you'd have been a bit more patient if you were in her place.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” Lucie finished her water and handed the cup back to him. “Depends on the way in which I'm being told that I'm mistaken.” She waited for him to throw the cup away, then held out her hands. “So, what's next?”

Chat took her hands in his and led her back out onto the dance floor with his usual amused smirk. “You tell me, little lady.”

Lucie wasn't sure what he meant by that.

 


	3. New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucie switches to a new major, and a new dancer appears at Kwami Dance Club. She's a little happier about one than she is about the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay on this part! I had such horrible writer's block while working on this and only managed to power through the rest of it today. Hopefully it will be enjoyable enough to compensate for the massive wait.  
> My personal playlist for this part:  
> Why Should I Worry - Billy Joel  
> The Call of the Jitterbug - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy  
> Shake, Rattle and Roll - Huey Lewis and the News  
> Jumpin' Jack - Big Bad Voodoo Daddy  
> Save the Last Dance for Me - The Drifters

“A dance concentration.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lucie's advisor set the change of major form down on his desk in favor of folding his hands and dropping his head into them. “Why is it always the good ones?” he mumbled, barely loud enough to be audible. He looked back up at Lucie. “You have a lot of talent, you know, Miss Bonheur.”

“Thank you, sir.” She wiped her palms, which felt clammy from nerves, on the sides of her skirt.

“You could do well as an actress someday if you stuck with the theater and acting concentration.” He sighed. “Of course, that's not to say you wouldn't do well with a dance concentration, but … you'll have much more trouble finding a job with a dance concentration than you would with your theater and acting concentration.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Lucie said, “if I were choosing my major based on my likelihood of finding a job, I probably wouldn't be a performing arts major at all.”

Her advisor looked at her with an inscrutible expression on his face. “I suppose you have a point there,” he agreed finally. He picked up his pen and set it over the signature line. “You're sure about this? You seemed very passionate about acting when you first got here.”

She shrugged. “I still am, but … I've found something I'm even more passionate about. And I'd be mad at myself forever if I didn't at least let myself try.”

“Spoken like a true performer.” He signed the sheet, and held it out to her. “The best of luck to you, Miss Bonheur.”

~

“You're really switching?” Marguerite asked as she and Lucie walked back to the apartment complex. “To dancing?”

“I've been considering it for a while,” Lucie replied cheerfully, “and I really feel like this is the right direction for me. Acting is fun and all, but … I guess I never really realized that dancing could be like that too until I gave it a try.”

Marguerite shot her an appraising sideways glance. “This doesn't have anything to do with that Noir guy you tried to talk to, does it? I mean, you never seemed like the type to change your life around for a man, but you've hardly shut up about him the past couple weeks.”

“Did it sound like I was praising him?” Lucie asked.

“Well, no …” Marguerite admitted.

“Besides, he's a senior,” Lucie went on. “I might see him around the dance hall every now and again, but we'll be in entirely different classes. It's not like we'd see much of each other, and he'll be gone after next semester.”

Marguerite tugged her hair out of the high ponytail she had been wearing for practice, combing her fingers through the blond tresses in a vain attempt to straighten them. “Fair enough. I'm just crazy impressed with you for switching like this. Dancing always looked super fun, but I'd be way too scared about not getting a job to ever try.”

Lucie laughed. “But you're willing to risk it on acting, huh?”

“Just like every other crazy student in the theater department,” Marguerite agreed with a grin.

“I'm pretty sure everyone in the performing arts department is crazy,” Lucie joked. “It's what makes us so good at what we're doing.”

The comment earned her a giggle from Marguerite. “You've got that right.” The conversation fell into a peaceful lull. This was the nice thing about living next door to a classmate, Lucie thought. Walking home together and talking like this, each of them just comfortable enough with the other to freely share what was on their mind. Although she might hesitate to call Marguerite her best friend, she was admittedly closer to her than to most of her other classmates. It was a blessing she hadn't anticipated when first starting college.

They were about three blocks away from the complex when Marguerite broke the silence. “Speaking of dancing and stuff, I was thinking of dropping by that little club on the Seine sometime. You know the one, right? Kwami Dance Club?”

Lucie nearly tripped over her own feet in surprise.

“Since I'm too chicken to switch to a dance major,” Marguerite went on, not noticing Lucie's almost-wipe-out. “I figured it can't hurt to visit a dance club every now and then and dance for fun. I mean, it's better than nothing, right?”

“I guess,” Lucie agreed, doing her best to act nonchalant. “I hear that place is pretty cool.” Fu hadn't said she couldn't tell people outside of the club about her being Ladybug, but it would probably be for the best to keep it quiet—there was no guarantee the information wouldn't get back to someone who did attend. And Marguerite could be a bit of a gossip.

“I heard they give their regulars a secret identity,” Marguerite said, as if to confirm Lucie's thought that she tended to gossip. “How fun is that? I'd love to have a cool code name. It's like being a spy. Except with dancing instead of spying on people.”

“What kind of code name would you go for?” Lucie asked. Fu had given her the name Ladybug, but maybe he let his visitors come up with their own name if they really wanted to. She hadn't asked Chat Noir how he'd gotten his.

Marguerite looked upwards in thought. “Hmm…something flower-themed, maybe? Ooh, or maybe Bumblebee. Bees are cute. Oh, and I could wear my yellow dress to the club! What do you think?”

“You'd look like a walking buttercup,” Lucie said with a laugh. She could picture it now, Marguerite with her pale hair and yellow dress, and a sequined yellow mask to match. She'd be the most noticeable person in all of Kwami Dance Club.

Marguerite gave her a playful shove. “Meanie. I would look fabulous. Hey, you should come with me. Little Miss Dance Concentration. Get some practice in, learn something new. It'll be a great start!” She leaned in conspiratorially. “And we can practice with each other when all the guys are too shy to ask such pretty girls to dance!”

Lucie laughed again. “As if. My classes will teach me plenty.” She felt a little bad deceiving Marguerite, but she'd already technically broken the dance club's rules by hunting down Destin Noir. She didn't want to betray Fu's trust a second time so quickly. At least her semester as a theater and acting concentration had been good for something—she was able to maintain a perfect poker face now, pretending she had never been to Kwami Dance Club in her life.

“You're no fun,” Marguerite griped. “Oh, well. It's your loss. Keep in touch once you transfer to the dance department, will you? I want to be able to tell you about my amazing dance club escapades.”

“It's a deal,” Lucie promised. They were nearing the apartment now. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucie saw a flash of polka dots. She stopped to look, and saw a black-spotted red skirt hanging in the window of a small boutique.

When she noticed that Lucie was no longer following, Marguerite stopped and glanced back. “What are you staring at like that?” She trotted over. “Ooh, that's cute.” She turned her eyes on Lucie. “You gonna buy it?”

“I shouldn't,” Lucie hedged, but she couldn't seem to take her eyes off the skirt. It was an A-line, perfect for swing dancing. And it fit the Ladybug theme well, even better than the checkered skirt she had been using up until now. “I'm trying to save up right now.”

“One little skirt won't break the bank,” Marguerite said. She pushed Lucie towards the boutique. “Go try it on. I have to go do homework, so I can't go in with you, but I bet you'll look great in that. And it's a good dance skirt. You're gonna need a lot of those for classes, right? Go on. I'll see you later.”

She had a point. It was just one skirt. Sure, it would put Lucie back about thirty euros, but that wasn't too bad in the grand scheme of things. And she had been meaning to introduce more variety into the wardrobe she reserved for the dance club.

“See you later,” Lucie said, and stepped into the boutique.

~

Chat Noir waggled his eyebrows and gave her a soft whistle when she came up to him in her new skirt. “Somebody's dolled up tonight,” he remarked. Without waiting for her to ask, he offered his hands for them to dance, and took her straight into sweetheart. “What's the occasion?”

Lucie was spun out and back in for the palm turn. “No occasion,” she replied. Spin back out, spin back in. “I just thought I ought to shake things up a little.” Spin out, spin in. “I've been wearing the same outfit here for a couple months now, after all.” She was spun out a final time to their full arms' length, and Chat knelt to cue her for proposal. She ran in and jumped obediently. “Hence, the new skirt,” she concluded as he dipped her backwards.

He set her down and flashed a smile. “It suits you, little lady. You should wear spots more often.”

“And I think you should wear all black less often.” Chat led her through Titanic, and rather than push him away at the end, she gave his tie a playful yank. “I know you're trying to match your black cat image, but the same outfit every night gets old fast.”

“It is not the same outfit every night,” Chat countered with an amused glint in his eye. He spun her into the cherry bomb.

“Oh, so you just have a closet full of nothing but black clothes?”

“Exactly.” He set her upright again.

“How boring.”

Her comment earned her a laugh. Not a snicker or a chuckle, but a full-bodied laugh. She thought to herself that he ought to laugh more often. It was nice. “My alternative would be pawprint patterned clothes,” he quipped as he led them into the window, “and I think we can both tell how catastrophic that would look.”

Lucie giggled. “Nonsense. You would look dashing.”

“Tell that to my dignity.” He took her out of the window, into cyclone.

“You could add some more colors to your wardrobe at least,” she pointed out when he straightened again at the end of the move. “Some grays, maybe some purples or something…or green, to match your eyes.”

“You should just go shopping for my new wardrobe yourself,” he teased. “It sounds like you have enough ideas to get the job done without me.”

“Only if I get reimbursed.”

Chat spun her from the inside turn into another dip. “I'll pay you back in dances.”

Lucie suddenly felt very hot all over, as if all the dancing had caught up to her at once. His face was so close…! And the amused smirk on his lips was _not_ helping. She swallowed against a throat that had gone oddly dry—from thirst due to exercising or from the proximity of Chat's face, she wasn't sure—and said, against her better judgment, “Deal.”

His smirk morphed into a grin. “Perfect.” He lifted her up. “You doing all right, little lady? You're looking a little red from just one dance.”

Oh, God, was she blushing? She clapped her hands to her cheeks and realized that she was, in fact, blushing. _Why?_ She couldn't possibly like Chat Noir that way. There was no way in a million years that she could like him. He was capricious, deliberately secretive, almost irritatingly flippant, and—and he needed to stop looking at her all concerned like that right this minute.

“I'm fine,” she managed to say in a voice that was at least somewhat normal. “I…um…I'm gonna go get a drink of water really quick. Be right back!” She made a beeline for the refreshments along the wall while trying her best not to look like she was running away. She had almost made it when someone bumped into her.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry!” The voice was familiar enough that Lucie looked over to see who it was. She immediately wished she hadn't. She would recognize Marguerite's yellow dress anywhere. One glance at the worried blue eyes behind the yellow- and black-striped mask and she knew for sure that her instinctive guess was right. “I didn't hurt you, did I?”

Lucie blinked. Did Marguerite not recognize her? Even wearing the skirt they had seen together in the boutique earlier that day? “No…”

“Oh, thank God.” Marguerite let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “I'm new here, so I'm totally paranoid about running into people. I knew it was gonna happen eventually. At least you're not hurt—you're sure you're not hurt?”

Lucie couldn't help smiling at Marguerite's familiar worrywart ways. “I'm sure. Thanks for the concern, though, Miss…?” Might as well keep the ruse up.

“Queen Bee.” Marguerite offered her hand for Lucie to shake. “You can call me Queen Bee. And you are…?”

Lucie accepted the offered hand. “Ladybug. Nice to meet you, Queen Bee.”

“Thanks so much. Oh, hey, you wouldn't happen to know if there's anybody here who could teach me the ropes, do you? So far all the guys I've danced with have been super new and don't know much more than I do.”

“Sure!” She pointed in the direction she had just come from. “There's a guy over that way, all black, calls himself Chat Noir. He can get you started if you want.”

“Awesome, thanks so much!” Marguerite gave Lucie a final handshake in gratitude and then vanished between the pairs on the dance floor. Lucie continued on her way to the refreshments.

She had recommended Chat Noir without thinking, but as she sat there sipping her cup of water, she couldn't help kicking herself a little. What was she doing? Chat was supposed to be her partner for the competition in the summer, and here she was pawning him off on newbies. They needed to practice. There was still a lot for her to learn, and giving him other partners to work with was the exact opposite of helpful.

A break opened up between some of the couples, and Lucie caught sight of Marguerite and Chat Noir across the room for a brief moment. He was obviously teaching her armbreaker; he had just finished the spin and looked to be explaining the dip that followed. Marguerite must have screwed up once already, judging by her face. She was giggling the way she always did in acting class when she messed something up, one hand over her cheeks to cover her embarrassment. Chat looked like he had been laughing too.

An odd, stabbing pain lanced through Lucie's chest at the sight.

~

“There you are,” Chat said with a grin when Lucie finally approached him again. She had waited until he had sent Marguerite off for the night, which meant a solid hour or so of watching the two. “Where have you been, little lady? I was starting to think you'd ditched me.”

She shrugged in a way she hoped looked dismissive. “You were teaching somebody. I thought it'd be rude to interrupt, so I waited.”

“You could've come over.” He took her hands and waited for the upbeat before starting the dance. “I told her I could only teach her until my partner came back from getting a drink.”

Lucie scrunched her nose up at him. “Well, how on earth was I supposed to know that, silly? I'm not psychic.”

“Well, for future reference—” he swung her into the same dip that had sent her running earlier—“if I'm dancing with someone else, you're always free to cut in. We have a competition to prepare for, you and I. You get first dibs on Chat Noir.”

Frantically, she wished for the heat creeping back into her face to go away. She couldn't let this dip get to her every single time. The odds that they would do it during the competition at least once were high, which meant no running away with her face on fire every time he did it. “Even if I cut in in the middle of an aerial?” she managed to joke.

His grin broadened as he lifted her back up, his eyes filled with that mischievous glint she knew so well. “That'll be the one time I make an exception to my no-dropping-girls-during-aerials rule,” he joked back.

“I'll keep that in mind.” She let him take her through keyhole before adding, “The same goes for you, you know. If I'm dancing with someone else, you're always allowed to cut in.”

“Even if I cut in in the middle of an aerial?” he asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly. He spun her into armbreaker.

“Only if you catch me when the other guy drops me,” she replied.

He held her far closer than was necessary for a dip like armbreaker. “You've got yourself a deal, little lady.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo can anybody guess who Marguerite is supposed to be? First person to guess correctly gets an internet cookie! (Because I have nothing else to offer you, sadly...) I'll try to be faster about posting the next part, but I'm crazy busy with school at the moment, so no promises unfortunately. Thanks for reading!


End file.
